(For Murtagh from Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle)




                                                        
 
                                                             The Prisoner.
                                                      
                                         Bound by chains beyond what eyes see,
                                         Chains of what the world expects him to be,
                                         Links with dreadful names,
                                         Evil,
                                         Bloodlust,
                                         Wicked traitor,
                                         Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!
                                         Torturous titles he wishes would depart with ease,
                                         Ease like wind blown dust,
                                         Ease of dead winter's freeze.
                                         Alas, alas, alas,
                                         Will he ever be free?

                                         Yes! With strength such as his it will be so!
                                         For better things his name they'll all know,
                                         Links shatter from the passage of time,
                                         Far, far too weak to bind,
                                         And free to the skies his soul shall rise.

                                                                                   E.J. Norris